Gitontheón
Gitontheón. A dead place. I would have liked to never again reminisce over this barren rock. This memory had been buried so deep that I would have thought it to be transferred to my memory phylactery. It will be, too, once I have finished writing this. I was asked where I truly came from. Not the last world I spent years in - the world The Constellate was conceived upon - but where I was born. Where I was crafted out of organic and fleshy antiquated mess inside of a womb. An amusing thought now. I think my memory of my parents had brought me great sorrow but it is not in me. That, I remembered to store away. I'll tell you then, oh Constellate of mine, but with three words I have already described all that's left; a dead place. ---- It was once a proud world with supreme technology that was fully understood. More understood than the things We work to reverse-engineer. The Ingresses could be attuned to pinpoints, causal reconciliation was scant an issue, and scholars came much closer to discerning the truth behind the cosmic forces ever at play. There was even a technology so advanced that I have yet to see it elsewhere and I cannot even begin to fathom how it worked...only what it was purported to do. They dubbed it Fate's Frame. It attuned to one's soul, analyzed the millions of prospective futures, and conjured a symbolic representation of the most likely future. 'Most likely' is ambiguous - was it an average of all temporal prospects? A median? Mode? Mean? These answers are destroyed by the very hands that made them. You see, the original Jahfaey, they were perhaps at the cusp of technological singularity. But advancement is not a linear vertical path. It is diagonal, zig-zagged, curved, and even looping. The great scientists of Gitontheón would perhaps laugh at Us for Our grossly refined Ingress and Our miniscule dyson sphere. But We've achieved something they hadn't; gestalt-intelligence. We share all except personal memories. Never has there been a single true conflict amongst Us. Heated debates, perhaps, or even duels to decide upon two equally valid viewpoints - but no ill-willed sins derived from disagreement with one another. Gestaltation is love and no one willingly harms what they love. On the other hand they achieved something else We hadn't; they slayed their Psychopomp. We need not do this - the effort is simply not needed and the strangest anomalies happen when you do - but they did. The original Jahfaey fed on Anima. They were not Anima''workers'' such as We, but Anima''eaters''. They'd not learned how to share and combine Anima, such an ability being the fundament of Our gestaltation. We all are One and when Our shells fail Us We take refuge in a sibling's shell. The Psychopomps who would have Our spiritual heads on pikes for such a circumvention will never get their due. Gitontheón still had theirs to contest with and contest they did. A battalion of the world's finest men and women made the ultimate sacrifice and took a one way trip to the Underworld to fight that Psychopomp. Czuq'gykaedh, she was called. Until she died - slain - and returned to The Void. For a brief period of time the world was enraptured by its ascension to what it thought to be true godhood. What else could stand in the Jahfaeys' way now? Themselves. They began to realize that, indeed, truly nothing could stop them from getting everything and getting it exactly the way they wanted. Not even themselves, so they thought; those who they always disagreed with would be but detours now that could be plowed through or bypassed. Rather than conquer other worlds as they prior had, they decided the last frontier was each other. What followed was what could be considered a planetary level case study of The One Law. I like to think the 'most ruthless' who remained withered away in hollow triumph, but I escaped before I learned of who 'won'. Exiled, actually, but that is another story for another time. This recollection appals me. My gut is in knots but I don't have organs. My head hurts but I don't have blood vessels that would constrict. If gestalt-intelligence had been achieved all those years ago, the equivalent of a Constellate would have been so large even Itself could not fathom Its own size. Instead, We are only numbers in the hundreds of thousands. We are but a relative molecule in the relative ocean of Everything. But We will go on, unlike Gitontheón. Category:Journals Category:Worlds Category:Grimoire